Chapter 23 #2
Oliver rolls onto his side and places a kiss against my shoulder. His fingers trail over my chest, freeing my breasts from the white fabric of my bra. They sit on top of the lace—nipples beaded, and he takes his time caressing each one.
I lift my hips, my body begging for contact. He sees my reaction and grins.
“Impatient,” he teases, letting his hand explore farther south.
“Frustrated.”
“I like you sexually frustrated.”
I narrow my eyes.
“Let me enjoy you,” he whispers against my mouth.
I lick him along his bottom lip, eliciting a growl.
“Let me enjoy you,” I whisper back.
Over my belly, along each side, he strokes every piece of me like it’s a mission not to let a shred of my skin go without his touch. I can’t complain … yet I do.
“Oliver …” I moan as he makes it to the apex of my thighs.
“Let’s see how wet you are,” he says as he slides my panties off.
“Oh, like that’s a question.”
He chuckles, dragging a finger through my slit. The contact against my overstimulated flesh is enough to make me yelp.
“How do you do this?” I groan, lifting my hips again. “How do you just sit there and touch me and not die for me to touch you?”
“Because …” he says, placing a juice-coated finger into his mouth.
My jaw drops as I watch the finger pop free.
A fire burns deep in my belly so hot that I think the flames burst out of the top of my head.
“If you touch me,” he says, drifting the wet finger across my stomach, “I’ll come.”
“Hey!” I laugh, batting his hand away. The cool air makes the dampness on my skin obvious, and it’s just another thing I have to try to process at a moment when there are too many things to separate. “You’re just being mean now.”
“Am I?” He leans forward and wraps his mouth around one of my nipples.
My back arches, and my eyes fall closed. A moan worthy of a movie scene fills the room.
“Oliver …” I reach blindly for his cock but come up empty-handed. “Dammit, Oliver.”
He palms the breast he just mouthed with one hand and goes to work on the other. He licks, kisses, and puts pressure on the nipple with his teeth.
I yelp.
“I love watching you struggle not to fall apart.” He grabs my legs, and in one quick move, he’s between them. “Now you can come, my lady.”
“Oh, fuck.”
I ball the comforter up in my hands as he blows on my pussy. The steady stream of air against the swollen flesh is nearly enough to make me lose my mind.
“Watch me.” It’s an order, a statement requiring compliance. His tone gives no choice but for me to comply. “Don’t look away, or I’ll stop.”
His hands pin the back of my thighs in the air as he situates himself between them. My legs framing Oliver’s face is more erotic than any daydream I’ve ever had.
He sticks his tongue out and runs it up my slit.
“Oh, my gosh,” I moan, sucking in a hasty breath.
His eyes are dark, broody, as he grins. And then he does it again.
My legs shake as he parts me, stopping at my clit to service it. The intensity of his tongue against my most sensitive part has my eyes rolling in the back of my head.
Immediately, his tongue stops moving.
“Fuck,” I say, looking down at him with so much frustration that it’s hard not to kick him in the face.
“Watch.”
He lowers his face until I can only see his eyes. And then, in a moment I do not expect, he sucks my clit into his mouth.
“Dammit!” I all but scream, the intensity nearly painful.
Fire shoots through my body, curling and coalescing in my core. My legs shake uncontrollably.
He takes his hand off my right leg as I start to moan again. Just as I think the assault is starting to wane, he inserts one, then two fingers inside me.
“Oh, shit,” I say, the words coming out in a broken scatter of a sentence.
“Look at me!”
I try—I try so hard to watch him between my legs. But every time I begin to focus, the pressure of his fingers pumping inside me and his mouth sucking at my flesh makes my eyes close again.
This is wonderful—insanely, mind-numbingly wonderful. I lay in a heap on Oliver’s bed, clutching his blankets as if my life depends on it, and feel the fire burn through my veins.
It’s a flood, a broken damn of orgasmic bliss that ruptures through me.
Colors shoot through my vision like a fireworks display on the Fourth of July.
The top of my head is light as if it’s going to burst. The pit of my stomach is tight, clenched, as my body comes apart around this man’s mouth and fingers.
“Oliver!” I scream, the potency of an orgasm something I’d long forgotten—if I ever knew to begin with. “Oliver! Dammit!”
He pulls his face away, taking advantage of his position, and watches me struggle to come back to earth.
His fingers slow, each motion more deliberate yet more controlled. Gently, he milks every last drop of pleasure from my body.
I fall back to the mattress. Sweat streaks my skin. I’m completely and utterly spent. Mind. Blown.
So that is an orgasm. Holy shit.
“That,” Oliver says, sliding off the bed, “was worth every second of frustration you may have experienced tonight.”
“Just tonight?” I wince as the words make me dizzy. “I’ve been thinking about this since you kissed me.”
He leans over me, his face a few inches from mine. “I’ve been thinking about this since you hit me with your car.”
I grin sleepily. “I hit your car with my car. Get it right.”
He kisses me on the forehead. “Have you had enough?”
I lean up and kiss him, running my tongue around the inside of his mouth. He growls against my lips. The sound and vibrations send a shock through me again.
He pulls away. “I hope not because you just incited level two.”
I laugh as he hovers over me. “That’s all it took?”
“I have a feeling this won’t be my best attempt at level two, but you have me ready to burst.” He brushes a strand of hair off my cheek. “You are seriously amazing.”
A blush creeps across my face, and I grab a pillow and cover it. There’s something about being naked, fresh off an orgasm, and having Oliver tell me that I’m seriously amazing that makes me embarrassed.
“Oh, no,” he says, ripping the pillow away from me.
I squeal in protest—a protest he doesn’t pay a bit of attention to. He just grins.
He hops off the bed and procures a condom. He sheathes his cock, and then he’s caging me in before I know what’s happening.
“Shaye?” It’s not just a question but a plea.
He’s desperate … for me.
My knees fall to the side. “Yes, please.”
He lines himself up with my opening. At the same moment his lips land on mine, he parts my body with his.
“Ooh.” I sigh as he fills me.
“Shit.” He rests his forehead on mine. “Dammit, Shaye.”
“Does it feel good?”
He smirks. “So good, baby.”
“So good, baby.”
I hold on to his shoulders, wrapping my legs around his waist, and lift my hips. The words he just spoke echo inside my brain. He slides out of me before thrusting once again.
“Oliver.”
He grits his teeth, pushing and pulling, sliding through my wetness. I lock my heels just above his ass and squeeze him with my thighs.
Each movement, each thrust, builds me higher. Each flex of my muscles, each squeeze, sends him closer to his climax.
I watch his features—how his jawline pulses and the lines around his eyes crinkle. How his long lashes flutter with each blink and his forehead wrinkles as it shines with sweat.
My lord, he’s beautiful. He’s beautiful in every way. And as I lie beneath him, letting him pour himself into my naked body, I don’t feel anything other than pure contentment.
This is exactly where I want to be.
I run my hands down his arms, feeling the ripples of his muscles as he holds himself up. He picks up his pace, pounding into me with the ferocity of a man who’s on the edge.
I close my eyes and let my senses take over.
It takes all of three seconds to have me clinging on the edge of glory once again.
“I’m going to come,” I warn him.
His entire body tenses. I can feel the head of his cock swell deep inside me.
“Me too,” he groans as he pulls nearly out of me completely and then rockets himself inside. He’s so deep, so wildly deep that I gasp.
“Ah!” I exhale, tightening my body around his length as his arms shake against mine.
“Fuck,” he hisses, his back flexing against my heels that are dug into his skin.
Finally, my vision still blurred and my heart still racing, Oliver lowers himself on the bed beside me. We lie side by side for a long minute, catching our breath.
He laughs. “That was worth every ounce of self-restraint that I’ve used since we met.”
I roll over, my body already aching, and lay my head on his chest.
He runs his fingers through my hair as I listen to his heart strum.
“Don’t fall asleep yet,” he whispers. “We need to get you cleaned up.”
“Hmm.”
My eyelids grow heavy, and I let them fall.
I vaguely remember the mattress dipping. A part of my brain recalls a damp cloth brushing against my skin. I dimly locate the moment that Oliver picked me up and tucked me under the blankets of his bed—against him.
My dreams fill with Oliver and dancing and sex. Lots of sex. And in each scenario playing through my head while I sleep is one line on repeat—“So good, baby.”
So good.